


Danny the Best

by JJJunky



Category: Young Riders
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJunky/pseuds/JJJunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kid helps a young man in need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danny the Best

Danny the Best  
By JJJunky

 

Thompkins disconsolately swept the rough boards of the sidewalk a small frown wrinkling the stern contours of his face. When a particularly stubborn clump of dried mud resisted the stiff bristles of the broom, he kicked it with the toe of his boot. The action not only dislodged the dirt, it released some of his pent-up frustration. When the cool breeze, a prevenient of the approaching winter blew dust onto the freshly swept boards, he threw the broom down in disgust. A shout of laughter drew his attention feeding his resentment. His narrowed glance strayed down the almost deserted street to the noisy saloon. As he listened to the merriment, he fought a silent battle with his conscious. Should he give in to the desires of his libido or his pocketbook?

Earlier that morning, a wagon had limped into town, its axle close to breaking. To the observers amazement and delight, it was carrying Lily Terry, The Song Bird of the West. Thompkins had managed to catch a quick glimpse of the songstress as she was entering the saloon. Her posters had only partially displayed her assets. She had a beauty that enticed the store keeper. Its memory nearly compelled him to close the shop and join the rest of the male population of Sweetwater in the saloon, a customers timely arrival had reminded him of the potential loss of revenue. 

His decision to keep the general store open ate at Thompkins, even as his attention was drawn away from the merriment to two horses walking slowly down the street. The riders were more familiar to the store keeper than he had ever wanted them to be. They had caused him trouble the first time they entered his shop. Subsequent meetings had only slightly altered his first opinion of the Pony Express riders. As he watched their progress, he wasn't surprised to see that one of the riders was Cody. He was, however, disconcerted that the other rider was the Kid.

The young Southerner hadn't been in town for over a month, not since the cholera epidemic scare. Guiltily, Thompkins remembered why. It had been a traumatic episode almost ending in the lynching of a simple minded boy by vigilantes from another town and some of the citizens of Sweetwater - including Thompkins. Their actions weren't taken out of malice, but rather out of fear - a paralyzing fear that had nearly cost the innocent boy his life.

Picking up the broom, Thompkins leaned it against the wall before quickly walking back into his store. He wanted to be on familiar territory when he faced the Kid. Though young in years, the rider was above average in intelligence which often intimidated the store keeper.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Thompkins," the Kid called as he entered the store.

Besides an abundance of common sense, the boy was also innately polite. Grudgingly, Thompkins returned the greeting, "What can I do for you boys?"

"A raccoon managed to get into the bunkhouse and our food supplies," explained the Kid. "Rachel sent us in to get a few things to hold us till the end of the week."

Practically running as he moved around the shop, Cody collected the requested items. "Maybe if we hurry, we'll have time to stop in at the saloon."

"Rachel told us she needed those supplies right away," the Kid pointed out adding a five pound bag of salt to the other staples on the counter. "I'm gettin' what she wants and headin' home."

"So what else is new?"grumbled Cody his activity perceptively slowing.

Keeping a close eye on both boys, Thompkins recorded the items in his ledger. His concentration centered exclusively on the business at hand, he was surprised by a question that while anticipated had also been dreaded. Swallowing nervously, he stalled to give himself time to formulate an answer, "What was it you wanted?'

"Did you find a home for Danny around here?" asked the Kid a well of emotion stirred up by the simple question.

Thompkins had never intended to renege on his promise to find a home for the mentally handicapped boy. He just never expected it to be so difficult. "It wasn't easy. There are still a lot of people in town blamin' him for what happened."

"Why didn't you keep him here?" pressed the Kid. Gesturing around at the crowded shelves, he continued, "You're always complainin' you've got too much work to do."

Horrified by the very idea, Thompkins indignantly protested, "A person like that would drive my customers away."

"A person like what?" Though the voice hadn't raise an octave its very quietness was a warning to the older man.

Determined not to be intimidated by a boy half his age - and size, Thompkins replied, "You know him. What would my customers think if I had someone working for me who only had half a brain?'

The Kid's emotions were normally difficult to read. In this instance however, the store keeper was not oblivious to the anger that burned in the compassionate soul.

"You may think he has only half a brain," the Kid growled, "but at least he has a whole heart."

His anger drowning the guilt he'd felt, Thompkins roared, "I don't have to take this abuse in my own store. Get out!"

"Not until you tell me where Danny is," the Kid replied evading Cody's desperate attempt to guide him out the door.

"I said out!" repeated Thompkins pointing at the door.

Defiantly standing his ground, the Kid announced, "I'm not leaving till you tell me where Danny is."

Recognizing the truth not only in the words but also in the action, Thompkins reluctantly admitted, "Jenkins took 'im."

"Jenkins!" His tan face visibly paling, the Kid whispered, "You really don't have a heart."

Although guilt flushed the older man's face a dull puce Thompkin's straightened his back in indignation. He'd done the best he could, only relinquishing the boy to the farmer after all other avenues had been explored and failed. It wasn't the best solution, but at the time he'd felt it was the only one. The Kid's condemnation cut deep. "Out!"

To make sure the boys complied with his order, the store keeper followed them to the door wishing with each step that he had closed the store when the opportunity had presented itself earlier. Words floated back to him as the boys stuffed the supplies in Cody's saddlebags.

"I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when Rachel hears about this," the blond muttered.

Oblivious to the warning, the Kid untied Katy's reins and swung himself into the saddle. Dust from the paint's hide and his own clothes swirled around him. Backing the horse into the street, he turned her down the road - away from the ranch.

Cody ran in front of the mare indignantly demanding, "Where the hell do you think you're goin'?"

"I gotta check on Danny," the Kid explained obviously annoyed by the delay.

"It's been over a month," protested Cody. "What's another day or two gonna matter?"

"It matters," whispered the Kid kicking Katy in the side.

Instinctively, Cody turned aside. A silent debate played across his face. Should he follow his friend or should he go home? Laughter from the saloon drew his attention. A small smile tilted his lips. 

Thompkins watched the boy enter the saloon, the desire to join him evaporated as Danny's trusting face intruded. Initially, he had tried to do good by Danny, but desperation had forced him to do otherwise. He'd managed to bury the entire episode in a rarely visited corner of his mind - and heart until the Kid's condemnation had dug it up. Frustrated he grabbed the broom determined to banish the specter. His powerful arms swung in time with the ghostly echo of a harmonica. 

* * * *

The late afternoon sun barely penetrated the haze, its summer heat almost gone. Guilt tore at the Kid as he neared Jenkins ranch. How could he have been so selfish? Avoiding any reminders of that horrible night, he'd pushed Danny's memory away. His harmonica lay beneath his bunk gathering dust. It had been Danny who had taught him how to play it. The pupil had rewarded his teacher by deserting him.

The rolling landscape flattened out before him. Fields that had only recently been harvested lay in geometric precision around a small group of buildings. As much as the Kid disliked Jenkins as a person, he had to admit the man was a productive rancher. Though he primarily raised cattle, the normally unyielding land flourished under his hand providing ample feed for his stock during the winter months.

A haggard figure stumbled from the barn, his clothes barely recognizable rags. In a voice scarcely loud enough to be heard above the pigs squealing in their pen, the Kid stammered, "D-Danny?"

The movement stiff and slow, the head tilted back till sad brown eyes rested on the rider. It took a few seconds, but when they recognized the face above him, a smile, only a fraction dimmer than it had been a month before, split the dirty features. "Kid?"

As the Kid dismounted to greet the boy, a strident command echoed from the barn. "You don't have time to visit Danny. Get back to work."

Putting a hand on the thin arm to prevent the boy's anxious retreat, the Kid called, "I just came by to see how Danny was gettin' on Mr. Jenkins."

"Now that you've seen him, ya can leave and let 'im get back to 'is work," Jenkins ordered walking confidently out into the dim sunlight.

His grip tightening to hold Danny beside him, the Kid pointed out, "What I've seen is that he's not gettin' enough to eat."

"He gets what he works for," Jenkins explained. "No work, no food."

"He's not an animal to be beaten into submission," protested the Kid.

Nodding his head in agreement, Jenkins snapped his fingers at the dog sitting attentively at his side. Without hesitation, the panting canine dropped to its stomach. "Yer right, this here dog is smarter than that boy. Once you teach 'im obedience the work gets done."

"Get your things Danny," the Kid ordered his bleak gaze resting on the subservient animal.

"Don't you be orderin' my hands about," commanded Jenkins taking a few threatening steps towards the two boys. "There's still enough light left for a couple hours work. If Danny expects to eat tonight, he best get on with it."

His hand resting meaningfully on the butt of his gun, the Kid shook his head, "Danny is no longer one of your hands. Step aside and let him pack his belongings."

Jenkins dispassionately regarded the young rider, "I thought it was Hickok who used the gun to solve his problems?"

"Sometimes it's the only answer to injustice," the Kid reluctantly admitted even as he allowed his arm to relax at his side. "Danny's comin' with me."

"You got no right," Jenkins protested.

Laughing without mirth, the Kid demanded, "Since when have you cared about rights? What you're doin' to Danny ain't right."

"He woulda starved if it weren't for me." Squaring his shoulders, Jenkins self-righteously insisted, "I gave him a home."

"No!" the Kid contradicted. "You gave him a prison. A home has warmth and love and trust."

"You expect a boy like that to get all them things?" the disbelieving farmer shook his head. "He's lucky he got what he did."

The Kid moved his hand away from his gun, afraid that he might be tempted to use it. "Get your things Danny. You're comin' with me."

Hope warring with fear on the expressive face, Danny explained, "Danny don't have anything to get."

"No other clothes?" asked the Kid in amazement. When the boy shook his head reenforcing his claim, the Kid gently pressed, "You want your harmonica though, don't you?'

Bowing his head, Danny admitted, "Harmonica gone."

"Where did it go?" the Kid gently urged.

Danny raised his head to stare accusingly at the farmer. "He take it."

"You can't play one of them things and work at the same time," Jenkins remorselessly asserted.

"Give it back," the Kid quietly ordered.

"I can't," revealed the farmer, " I destroyed it."

The omission of even the slightest feeling of regret on the man's face fueled the Kid's rage. It was an anger that was directed inward at himself as much as it was at the farmer. Afraid of the actions this anger might drive him to initiate, he deliberately turned away and mounted Katy. Bending down, he pulled a frightened Danny up behind him.

"What yer doin' ain't right," shouted Jenkins shaking his fist at the pair.

"I know," the Kid quietly agreed. "I'm sorry I have to leave the dog."

Turning Katy toward the setting sun, the Kid rode slowly away from the curses following in their wake, acutely conscious of the arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He had seen the implicit faith on the innocent face and prayed that the feeling wasn't misplaced.

* * * *

Pork chops fell off the plate as it impacted forcefully with the table. Her face flushed a bright red, Rachel straightened. Her hands on her hips, she declared, "If anyone thinks their meal is a little bland tonight, you can blame it on Mr. Cody."

Spearing one of the fallen chops, Teaspoon soothed, "I'm sure the food is as delicious as usual."

"How can it be?" demanded Rachel glaring accusingly at her tormentor. "Half the ingredients are missing."

Leery of the woman's wrath, Cody hesitantly apologized, "I told you I was sorry Rachel. But, if you'd been in town you woulda had to have seen what the commotion was too. Nobody could've resisted."

"The Kid didn't seem to have any trouble ridin' out of town," Rachel pointed out folding her arms across her ample bosom.

His eyes involuntarily drawn to the delectable view, Cody swallowed before forcing his eyes up to the flushed face. "The Kid went the other way. Jenkins is west of town," he anxiously reminded.

Tight lipped with what could've been anger or frustration, Rachel turned to retrieve the potatoes and succotash keeping warm on the stove. A strained silence filled the room broken only by the sound of forks and knives encountering the tin plates. The uncomfortable meal was consumed in record time.

When Rachel rose to clear the dishes, Hickok took his courage in hand. Leaning across the table, he whispered, "Did you see Miss Terry, Cody?'

"Yeah," nodded the blond his eyes anxiously following Rachel. "Not real well, practically the whole town was in that saloon."

"At least the male population," corrected Rachel making it clear she heard every word of the whispered conversation.

Undaunted, Hickok pressed, "Was she pretty?"

"Incredible!" enthused Cody sighing in rembrance till his eyes fell on Rachel's disapproving features. Hastily, he added, "Though of course, she doesn't hold a candle to Rachel."

"Don't think for one minute that flattery will get you back into my good graces Mr. Cody," the young woman reproved.

Licking the last of her meal from her fingers, Lou asked, "What's Miss Terry doin' in Sweetwater anyway? Is she gonna put on a show?"

"She can't," said Cody shaking his head, obviously grateful for the reprieve, "her piano player was one of them that died in Blue Creek from the tainted meat. She's on her way to Denver to get a new one."

"Then what's she doin' in Sweetwater?" Noah impatiently repeated.

Clearly enjoying his position as the center of attention, Cody explained, "The axle broke on her wagon. They're waitin' for the blacksmith to replace it."

"They?" emphasized Teaspoon. As Marshal, he was always curious about the people who visited his town. Knowledge could often forestall potential trouble.

"Mark Terry," Cody clarified. "Miss Terry's brother and manager."

The dim lamp light shadowing his strong features, Buck abruptly rose from his seat, "Rider comin' in."

"Is it the Kid?" Lou hopefully inquired as she rose to follow the Indian.

"I'm not sure," said Buck taking a lamp off a hook before opening the door. "Who ever it is, he's ridin' heavy."

Shadows danced across the yard as the clouds played hide and seek with the moon. Holding the lantern high to cast its light out into the darkness, Buck used all his senses to attempt to identify the intruder. Seconds before horse and rider rode into the light, he acknowledged, "It's the Kid."

Even before he'd pulled Katy to a stop, the Kid found himself surrounded by his friends. Unsure of his welcome after his precipitous flight, he nervously eased Danny to the ground before dismounting himself. "Teaspoon, Rachel, I hope you don't mind. I asked Danny to stay with us for a while."

"Of course he's welcome," Rachel assured, her face clearly showing her distress at the bedraggled figure in front of her. "You boys go get cleaned up while I heat up some dinner for ya."

"I'll take care of Katy," Buck offered taking the reins out of the Kid's hand.

After what he had witnessed at Jenkins, the Kid's eyes misted over with gratitude. Once, he'd taken such caring for granted. He never would again.

* * * * 

Dressed in clothes that were several sizes too big - yet far better than the rags he'd arrived in - Danny pushed away from the table obviously replete from the food Rachel had served him. Regarding the happy face, the Kid felt no regret over his hasty decision. Danny had been little more than a slave to Jenkins. And, if there was one thing the Kid had learned in the last few months, it was that slavery was wrong.

His own plate empty, the Kid rose from his seat. Walking the short distance to his bunk, he dragged out the small case that guarded his few treasures. Digging around inside, he had a few anxious moments before finally discovering what he was looking for. Keeping his hands behind his back, he crossed to Danny's side. Gently, he placed his harmonica across the boy's calloused palm prodding, "Danny's the best."

"Danny the best," the young boy happily agreed as he lifted the instrument to his lips. 

The last sweet tones of "Aura Lee" were fading when the Kid felt a tap on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw Teaspoon beckoning him out the door. Though reluctant to leave the recital, he obediently followed the older man out onto the porch.

Muted chords of 'My Old Kentucky Home' penetrated the closed door. His head cocked, Teaspoon listened to the beautiful tune before facing the Kid. "You know Danny can't stay here."

"But Rachel said . . ."

"I know what Rachel said," Teaspoon interrupted. "I also know this is no place for a boy like that."

Fighting to control his anger, the Kid noted, "That's what Thompkins said too. A boy with half a brain would drive his customers away."

"You know I don't mean it like that," snapped Teaspoon, exasperation audible in his voice. "Every time you boys go on a run there's a chance you won't come back."

Crossing to the edge of the porch, the Kid softly pointed out, "We know that."

"But Danny doesn't," observed Teaspoon grimly. Gripping the Kid's arm, he turned the boy around to face him. "You saw how he was after Eli's death. What do you think it's gonna do to him if one of you boys don't come back?"

His anger evaporating, the Kid admitted, "I never thought of that."

"Actually, it wouldn't have made much difference if you had," reflected Teaspoon, scratching the stubble that lined his jaw. "You couldn't have left him with Jenkins."

Confused, the Kid protested, "But you just said . . ."

"I said he can't stay," smiled Teaspoon. "I didn't say he can't visit till you find a better home for him."

"I'll start lookin' tomorrow," the Kid eagerly offered.

"It'll have to be the day after," corrected the older man. "You got a run tomorrow."

* * * *

Rain poured down turning the dirt to mud. It sucked at his boots making each painful step an effort. There was no moon to penetrate the unyielding darkness. There was only a lame horse and his own thoughts to keep him company.

Hurrying to beat the threatening storm, the Kid had been six miles from the Sweetwater station when his horse stumbled. While the gelding hadn't broken a leg, he had obviously injured it. Gamely, he'd pressed forward. Despite the importance of the schedule, the Kid had dismounted choosing to walk rather than chance further injury to the gallant steed.

They'd taken only a few steps when it had started to rain. The long slopes quickly became treacherous. Recognizing the danger the Kid slowed his pace. His effort was in vain. Losing his footing, he rolled halfway down a small hill before a bolder had precipitously and painfully stopped his fall. The pain of bruised ribs dimmed when he rose to begin his assent again. Abruptly returning to the muddy ground, he inspected an injured ankle. Though relieved to find it was only sprained, he realized it would severely hamper his progress.

Needles of half frozen water drove through his cotton shirt stinging the tender flesh. Pulling his hat low to protect his eyes, he slowly followed his horse through the penetrating gloom. He would have to rely on the animal's instincts and sense of direction to reach home. Pain and darkness had robbed him of his own.

* * * *

Rachel felt lost as she watched Danny unhappily cross from window to window his right hand flapping his distress. Seeking a way to calm the young man, she pulled a johnnycake from the oven. "It won't be long before this cake'll be cool enough to eat," she prophesied. "Why don't you sit down?"

"Danny can't eat," said the boy continuing his pacing. "Where's the Kid?"

The same question had been asked and answered throughout the long afternoon. Containing her frustration with difficulty, Rachel replied, "You know the Kid had to go on a run Danny. You watched him leave."

"Kid left Danny. Should be home. Gone too long."

Though surprised that Danny had recognized a truth she had been trying to deny, Rachel gently explained, "Sometimes another rider is late with the pouch. That would make the Kid late, too."

"No,no," Danny shook his head so hard he almost threw himself off balance. "Kid hurt. Gotta find Kid."

When Danny suddenly crossed to the door, Rachel flew to his side, fearing that he might charge out into the raging storm. Desperately wishing that Teaspoon and the other riders would finish their chores and return to the bunkhouse, the young woman searched for something that might distract the single-minded boy. When her eyes fell on the harmonica, she almost sighed with relief. "Danny, why don't you play me a tune while we're waiting for the others?"

"Danny can't play." Crossing back to the window, the boy reiterated, "Gotta wait for Kid."

Taking a lamp from where it hung on the wall, Rachel put it on the table. Raising the funnel, she struck a match to light the wick. Maybe if she could brighten the atmosphere it would calm her distraught companion. But, the mournful wail of a wolf echoing through the night only added to the sense of desolation already wrought by the storm.

Once again, Danny strayed near the door. "Gotta find the Kid."

This time, when Rachel tried to stop him, he pushed her away with a surprising strength. Off balance, she was unable to prevent the boy's heedless rush outside. The fight to stay on her feet brought her up against the table with a force that bruised her legs and knocked over the newly lit lamp. It crashed to the floor at the foot of the Kid's bunk. The dry wood ignited immediately. Racing up the leg, it set fire to the blanket.

Screaming for help, Rachel pulled the burning coverlet from the bed. Flames licking at her hands, she pulled it outside throwing it onto the rain soaked ground. Quickly returning to the bunkhouse, she stomped out the small fires her journey had left behind. Grabbing a blanket off of Cody's bed, she beat at the flames threatening to engulf the building.

The flames were almost extinguished when the room was suddenly filled with bodies, each one eager to assist her. Gratefully relinquishing her blanket to an insistent Hickok, Rachel stepped back to anxiously watch her charges.

A hand pulled her away from the fire and smoke to the other end of the long room. As she started coughing up black phlegm, the same hand held a cup of water to her lips. When she tried to hold it steady with her own hands, she cried out in pain, spilling the water down the front of her dress.

"It's all right Rachel," soothed Teaspoon gently easing the cup away from the burned hands. In a voice that was louder and more demanding, he called, "Lou, get the butter."

When the young girl placed the tin at his elbow, Teaspoon dug into the greasy mass with both hands. With a gentleness that was surprising from such work worn hands, he coated the rising blisters.

"The fire's out, Teaspoon," Noah called throwing a cautionary bucket of water on the charred wood.

"Good work boys," congratulated Teaspoon.

"If it weren't for Rachel," Hickok modestly pointed out, "there wouldn't have been anything for us to do but watch it burn."

Finding it difficult to think beyond the pain Rachel fought to control her confused thoughts. Suddenly remembering what had started the fire, she hastily gasped, "Go find Danny."

For the first time, Teaspoon realized the boy was missing, "Where is he, Rachel? What happened here?'

"I tried to stop Danny from going outside to look for the Kid." Biting her lip against the pain, Rachel paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "When I tried to hold him, he pushed me away. I bumped the lamp off the table, and it broke."

"So Danny's out in that storm without a slicker," Teaspoon said with a wince.

Already halfway to the door, Hickok asked, "Should we saddle some horses Teaspoon?"

"As dark as it is out there, you might miss him on horseback," the older man noted. "You'll have to search on foot."

When the boys rushed to the door anxious to begin their hunt, Rachel called a warning, "Search in twos, alone you don't have a chance of forcing Danny to come back."

* * * *

Mindlessly, the Kid limped along beside the tall gelding, his arm hooked through a stirrup to give his injured ankle support. He no longer noticed the rain that made the trail a treacherous quagmire, or the lightening, the only illumination in his world of darkness.

Only when Robby stopped, his ears twitching at a sound the Kid couldn't hear, did the exhausted boy become alert. His hand moved warily to his gun as he strained to locate the sound that had commanded the gelding's attention.

Off to his right a call, almost drowned by the loud contact of water meeting leather, echoed faintly through the stormy night. Though unable to distinguish the words being shouted, the Kid prayed that the voice wasn't a fabrication created by a mind trapped in an enervated body. "Over here!"

Afraid that his cry would go unnoticed, the Kid took hold of the reins and turned the horse away from their original course. As he limped along, he listened, hoping to hear a repeat of the earlier sound.

The next bolt of lightening that split the sky illuminated two figures moving quickly in his direction. Though he only caught a glimpse, he recognized them as Lou and Jimmy. Almost prostrate with relief, he allowed a few tears of joy to mingle with the raindrops streaming down his face as two dark forms denser than the shadows that surrounded them crossed to his side.

"Are you all right, Kid?" Lou anxiously inquired putting a reassuring hand on her ex-lover's arm.

"Yeah," soothed the Kid, "I just sprained an ankle."

Taking the reins, Jimmy handed them to Lou before putting the Kid's arm across his shoulder. Lending his strength to the exhausted boy, he started back toward the bunkhouse. "Why are ya walking?'

"Robby stumbled and hurt his leg," the Kid explained. "Not long after that the rain started. I slipped down a small hill and sprained my ankle."

Their own pace slowed by the treacherous conditions wrought by the storm, Hickok nodded, "We figured somethin' like that had happened."

"Then why in hell are you out in a storm like this lookin' for me?" the Kid demanded recognizing the danger his friends had engaged on his behalf.

"Actually," said Lou her voice reflecting the fear and anxiety her companions couldn't see on her face, "we weren't lookin' for you. We were lookin' for Danny."

His own pain forgotten, the Kid appealed, "What happened to Danny?"

As concisely as she could, Lou described the events leading to their quest. Their pace was slow as the story unfolded. When the Kid suddenly stopped walking, Hickok tried to urge him forward only to have him pull away completely from the strong support. The pain that was audible in the Kid's voice wasn't related to his physical injuries, but rather to the mental anguish he felt over the consequence of his actions. "Is Rachel all right?"

"She won't be cookin' for a while," admitted Lou, "but she'll be fine."

"Your bunk took the brunt of the fire, so you'll be sleepin' on the floor till we can build a new one," Hickok added.

"Teaspoon was right," the Kid raged as he limped away. "I never shoulda brought Danny to the station."

"What were you suppose to do?" Lou asked following her friend obviously fearful of losing him in the storm. "Leave him with Jenkins?"

"At least he was safe there. Not running around lost in a storm," argued the Kid slowing his pace when his good foot slipped in the mud almost dumping him face first into the mucky ground.

Observing the near calamity, Hickok rushed to the Kid's side. Ignoring the stubborn youth's protests, he put a supporting arm across the bowed shoulders. "I guess what ya gotta figure out is what's more important, being safe or being happy?'

"Danny deserves both," the Kid argued trying to push Jimmy away.

Her steps gauged to coordinate with the lame horse, Lou sadly pointed out, "Life don't always give ya what ya deserve."

"Well it's gonna give it to Danny," asserted the Kid.

"How ya gonna work that?" Hickok suspiciously inquired tilting his head so the water running off the brim of his hat wouldn't fall on his soaked friend. "Thompkins already tried everyone in town. That's how Danny ended up with Jenkins in the first place. No one else would take 'im."

"I'll do whatever I have to do," the Kid explained. "I'll find Danny a place where he can be safe and happy or I'll take care of 'im myself."

"How ya gonna do that?" an exasperated Hickok repeated. "You said yourself a Pony Express station ain't no place for 'im."

"Then maybe it ain't a place for me either," the Kid quietly stated.

Silence greeted the Kid's declaration. Reeling from the shock, Lou finally gasped, "You wouldn't leave the express?"

"I don't want to," admitted the Kid the sincerity of his statement clearly audible. "But, I don't want anyone else hurt because I neglected my responsibility."

"When did Danny become your responsibility?" Lou angrily demanded.

"When I asked him to be my friend," the Kid simply stated. "I let him down once, I won't again."

Lightening split the sky, illuminating the three young people in a stark tableau. A crack of thunder followed making them jump. Their ears were still ringing when the bark of a pistol echoed around them.

"Someone found Danny," Lou interpreted.

This time, Jimmy found no resistance when he put his arm around the Kid's shoulder to offer his support. "Let's get in out of this rain."

* * * *

Wind blew the rain across his path, the protective overhang unable to deter its relentless force. Mark Terry pulled the collar of his jacket up against his neck, but several drops still managed to find their way underneath where they trickled down his back.

Almost running the last few steps, he gratefully entered the sanctuary offered by the small hotel. Brushing away the excess water that had beaded on his coat, he wiped the mud off his feet before bounding up the stairs two steps at a time. The key to his room was already in his hand when he reached the top of the stairs. Entering, he threw it on the bed before crossing to the door that connected his room with the one next door. Rapping lightly, he softly called, "Lily, it's me."

The door was flung open practically before the words had left his lips. Flinging her arms around his neck, the young woman pressed her lips against his in a long, lingering kiss.

Finally coming up for air, Mark admonished, "That's not exactly sisterly behavior. What if someone had been with me and seen us?"

"I don't care if anyone does," pouted Lily reluctantly backing away. "It isn't against the law to kiss one's own husband."

"Since I'm suppose to be your brother, it would look mighty strange," Mark warned.

Leading the way back into her own room which was about twice the size of her husband's, Lily petulantly declared, "I still don't understand why you gotta be my brother instead of my husband."

"Men don't find a married woman as irresistible as an unmarried woman," Mark patiently explained. "The more irresistible you are the more money we make."

Crossing to the window, Lily ran her finger down the smooth glass in the wake of a raindrop. Unhappiness tingeing her voice, she admitted, "I'd rather be liked for my talent than for my beauty."

His long strides eating the distance between them, Mark put a comforting arm around his wife's shoulders. "One of these days it will happen, my darling."

"How much longer before the wagon's fixed?" asked Lily, resting her head back against her husband's chest.

His fingers gently massaging the hollow at the base of her throat, Mark's voice was husky when he finally replied, "The Blacksmith promised it would be ready day after tomorrow."

"That means another day in this horrid little town," the young woman unhappily sighed.

A finger tapped sharply against a collar bone as Mark admonished, "Someday we'll play in places like Denver or St. Louis, but until them, these horrid little towns are our bread and butter."

"I know," Lily quickly apologized. "It's just that I'm so frustrated. They have a piano, but no one to play it."

One hand slipped down the bodice of the modest dress his wife was wearing to fondle a plump breast as Mark agreed, "It's too bad we can't put on a show. We could certainly use the money after what's happened the last couple of weeks."

Turning slowly so as to keep from dislodging the wonderful sensation produced by the sensual finger, Lily pressed against the muscular body. "I guess we'll just have to entertain ourselves in a way that's far more enjoyable, though not so profitable."

"Young woman, are you trying to seduce me?" Mark mockingly inquired.

"Mmmmm," murmured Lily opening the damp shirt and pressing her lips to the hairy chest. "Is it working?"

"Mmhmm," Mark replied folding the small body into his arms and carrying it over to the bed.

* * * * 

The slimy mud resisted his efforts to sweep it off the sidewalk. Exasperated, Thompkins ceased the futile effort. Leaning against the broom handle, his eyes pensively studied the familiar scene before him. Though it was still early in the morning, Parker was already standing outside the saloon waiting for it to open. Fitzgerald was lowering the shades over the dirty windows of the bank while his clerk, Gordan, tried to clean the sidewalk with the same results as store keeper. A wagon came rolling down the street, breaking the routine. 

Thompkins put aside the broom as he watched Teaspoon Hunter guide the horses to the side street where the Doctor had his home and office. Rachel sat beside the Marshal, her hands wrapped in bandages. When the wagon turned the corner, the store keeper saw that the two boys swinging their legs over the back of the buckboard were the Kid and Danny. Though he would never admit it, particularly to the Kid, he was relieved to see the handicapped boy. Though it was an emotion he knew the express riders would never attribute to him, he had been conscience-stricken since he'd left Danny with Jenkins.

About to re-enter his store feeling better than he had in weeks, Thompkins noticed that the Kid didn't have a boot on his right foot. This coupled with the bandages on Rachel's hands piqued his curiosity. Crossing the street, he called, "Did that storm last night cause you folks some trouble?"

Climbing off the wagon, Teaspoon hurried around to help Rachel. "Nothin' we couldn't handle," the older man reassured.

"What happened to Rachel's hands?" the store keeper pressed, unwilling to accept Teaspoon's vague response.

After a quick censuring glance at Teaspoon and the Kid, Rachel forced a smile to her face as she replied, "I accidentally knocked over a lamp in the bunkhouse and burned my hands trying to put the fire out."

"Not bad I hope?" Thompkins solicitously inquired.

"That's what the Doc will tell us," said Teaspoon putting an arm across Rachel's shoulders to guide her into the physician's office. "If you'll excuse us."

The two had taken only a few steps when they were again accosted. Every muscle in her body broadcasting her disapproval, Mrs. McLane placed herself directly in Teaspoon's path, "I demand you do something right this minute Marshal."

As he attempted to steer Rachel around the incensed woman, Teaspoon soothed, "I'll be with you in a few minutes Mrs. McLane, right now . . ."

"This can't wait," the woman interrupted, pointing a fat finger to emphasize her request, "As the wife of the mayor of this town, I demand you do something now!"

Teaspoon exchanged a knowing glance with Rachel before ungraciously replying, "What's the problem then?'

"We cannot allow people like that in this town," Mrs. McLane enigmatically answered.

Clearly exasperated, Teaspoon demanded, "People like who?"

"Like them!"

Thompkins' eyes followed the accusing finger across the street to the young couple about to enter his store. The Matron's shrill cry drew their attention forcing them to alter their intended destination. Walking carefully around the mud puddles that dotted the street, Mark and Lily Terry apprehensively approached the group.

"Is there a problem Marshal?" Mark Terry asked.

"Apparently there is," Teaspoon acknowledged, "but, I haven't quite figured out what it is."

Her own measurements appearing even larger next to the petite singer, the older woman insisted, "In the name of my husband, the mayor, I expect you to arrest these people for lewd and lascivious behavior."

"I ain't quite sure what those words mean," Teaspoon said as the fingers of one hand gently massaged his neck behind the flowing white locks of his hair. "But, I don't think I've ever seen a law against it."

"Marshal Hunter . . ."

The woman's enraged response was interrupted by a calmer, almost musical voice, "Teaspoon is that you?"

His gaze draw to the small blond, the focus of his immediate problem, Teaspoon acquiesced, "I'm Teaspoon Hunter."

"It's me, Lilabeth." When the puzzled look on the older man's face didn't disappear, Lily Terry amended, "Lilabeth Grant."

"Bethie?" Teaspoon gazed wonderingly at the young woman. "You've grown."

"Children usually do," Lily laughingly pointed out.

Still in shock, Teaspoon shook his head, "But not this quickly."

"It's been over ten years since Mama divorced you," admonished Lily.

"That long . . ."

Her face red with barely suppressed rage, Mrs. McLane interrupted, "Marshal, what are you going to do?"

"About what?" Teaspoon absently inquired as he fondly contemplated the young singer.

Her finger pointing first at Mark then at Lily, Mrs. McLane replied, "Their unnatural behavior, there they were a brother and a sister making a public display of themselves."

"Where exactly did this display take place?" asked Teaspoon forcing himself to concentrate on his job.

"In their hotel room," Mrs. McLane triumphantly provided, "right in front of the window. What do you think of that?"

While Thompkins didn't often agree with Harriet McLane's views, this time he reluctantly had to aligned himself on her side. "It ain't natural for a brother and sister to act in such a manner."

Though Mark's face was flushed as bright a red as his accusers, it was from embarrassment rather than anger. Sheepishly, he admitted, "We're not brother and sister, we're husband and wife. A lot of saloon owners prefer their entertainment to be young, beautiful and unmarried."

"A likely story," a disbelieving Mrs. McLane countered. "You don't believe it, do you Marshal?"

Fighting a smile, Teaspoon shook his head, "I'm afraid I have to Mrs. McLane. You see I know Bethie - Lily, she's the daughter of my fifth wife . . ."

"Fourth," Lily corrected.

"Fourth," agreed Teaspoon after a brief hesitation, "and I happen to know she doesn't have any brothers."

"You don't believe them, do you Mr. Thompkins?" Mrs. McLane appealed obviously encouraged by the store keeper's earlier statement.

Surprised that she had recruited his assistance, Thompkins found himself torn. He honestly wasn't sure if he believed the older man or not. Nonetheless, he decided to throw his support to the happy, young couple. All Mrs. McLane had done since the day he'd opened his store was badger him about his stock and prices. "It's obvious that they know each other. I'm willing to give the Marshal the benefit of a doubt."

"We'll just see what my husband has to say about this," Mrs. McLane snapped her heaving chest clearly showing her acrimony.

Thompkins stepped aside with agility as the affronted woman pushed past him. He was surprised by the feeling of satisfaction that engulfed him. Maybe he should stand up to the old bag more often.

"I don't think Harriet liked your answer, Mr. Thompkins," said Rachel giving him a smile that was genuine this time.

Her gaze shifting from face to face, Lily apologized, "I do hope we haven't caused you all any trouble."

"You haven't," Teaspoon reassured. "Now tell me, when do we get to hear that beautiful voice of yours?"

Free to show his affection for his wife, Mark put an arm around her shoulders as he explained, "You won't, we haven't been able to find anyone who can play the piano."

"Danny can play the piano," the Kid contradicted. Careful to keep his unprotected foot out of the mud, he balanced himself with one hand on the wagon and the other on Danny's shoulder as he confirmed, "Can't you, Danny?"

"Danny the best," the boy acknowledged.

Smiling, Lily pointed out, " Well he certainly isn't modest."

"Danny the best. Danny can play anything." The ever present smile dimmed slightly as the boy continued, "Eli my friend. Eli like the harmonica so that's what I play the most."

Putting a reassuring hand on Danny's arm, Lily asked, "Where's Eli now?"

"Eli get sick." Tears began to roll down the tan cheeks. "Eli go away."

Pulling the harmonica out of Danny's back pocket, the Kid pressed it into the boy's shaking hand, "Why don't you play us something, Danny?"

The tears disappeared as a sun rose across the cloudy face. Wiping his runny nose on his sleeve, Danny put the instrument to his lips. The soft strands of 'Aura Lee' floated through the air carrying its listeners into another world.

As the last note echoed down the street, Mark regarded the boy in awe, "If you can play the piano half as good as that harmonica we'll make it to St. Louis yet."

Silent words were exchanged between Lily and Teaspoon before the young woman coaxed, "Who's your friend now, Danny?"

"Kid my friend," said Danny the smile returning.

"Do you think it would be all right if I was your friend, too?" Lily suggested gently wiping the last tear off the stained face. "I love to sing, but I need someone to play the piano for me. Would you like to play the piano for me, Danny?"

"I don't know." Forgetting that he was helping to support the Kid, Danny pulled away shaking his hand in agitation, "Kid?"

Thompkins quickly moved in to give the injured boy the support that had suddenly disappeared. In doing so, he accidentally splashed mud on Lily's beautiful dress.

Appearing not to notice that her clothes were no longer immaculate, Lily soothed, "It's all right, Danny. Nobody's going to force you to do anything you don't want to do."

"Kid?" Though partially reassured, Danny still turned to the one person who had supported him since Eli's death.

His voice low and comforting, the Kid pointed out, "You like to make music Danny and you don't like it when I go out on a run."

"Kid get hurt," said Danny shaking his hand harder.

"That's right, I might get hurt," the Kid agreed trying to keep his tone of voice soothing though his words were not. "Do you like Lily and Mark, Danny?'

"Danny don't know." He suspiciously regarded the couple. "Maybe they hurt Danny like Jenkins."

"We could never hurt Danny," Mark calmly contradicted. "Lily and Mark need Danny as much as Danny needs them."

Throwing more weight to the side supported by Thompkins, the Kid released his hold on the wagon. Putting a comforting hand on the agitated boy's arm, he reminded, "Danny's the best. Lily and Mark need the best."

"Go with Lily and Mark, Danny," Teaspoon urged crossing to the boy's side. "Danny deserves a home."

Danny sadly regarded his friend, "Danny leave the Kid?"

"If Danny's going to be happy, he has to," explained Teaspoon.

Though his lips were smiling, his eyes weren't, the Kid encouraged, "I'll always be there if Danny needs me. But, Danny needs to go where he can have his music."

Tears clouding his eyes, Danny nodded, "Danny the best."

"Danny the best," agreed Lily gently taking one of the boy's hands in her own.

Taking the other hand, Mark also repeated, "Danny the best."

Each hand held firmly, but gently, Danny walked away just has he had over a month before when Thompkins promised to find him a home. There was a difference however. This time, Danny didn't look back.

Teaspoon put a comforting hand on the Kid's shoulder, "Danny'll be happy with them. Bethie's a good woman."

"I know, Teaspoon," the Kid admitted. "I just wish I could've done more."

"You did more than any of us," Rachel comforted.

Nodding agreement, Teaspoon said, "I'll set them up with a job in St. Louis with Amanda. Being half owner of a saloon has its advantages after all. Then Danny'll have a real home."

Though he knew he'd been intruding, Thompkins was glad he'd been present when Danny's future had been resolved. The guilt he hadn't admitted to melted away leaving a happier man in its wake. As though in answer to his own feelings, Rachel laughed out loud.

Obviously surprised by the reaction, Teaspoon demanded, "What's so funny?"

Though her eyes were moist with unshed tears, Rachel's lips were split in a happy smile. "I can't wait to see Cody's face when he finds out that Lily Terry is married."

"And," the Kid added his own sadness slipping away, "that she's Teaspoon's step-daughter."

A wagon drew up at the end of the road. As its wheels rolled through a large puddle, muddy water splashed the group. Unmindful or uncaring of the damage he'd initiated, Jenkins jumped from his buckboard. Pointing his finger at the Kid, he angrily addressed Teaspoon, "Marshal, I demand that you arrest this boy immediately."

"If this keeps up," Teaspoon muttered, wiping mud off the side of his face, "everybody in town's gonna end up in jail."

"That storm last night caused me to lose almost a third of my crop," Jenkins' explained ignoring the Marshal's comment.

"Well, in that case, why don't I jus' arrest Mother Nature?" Teaspoon sarcastically noted. 

Thompkins glanced sharply at the older man as he fought to contain his mirth. Surprised at his own response, he bit his lower lip and quickly averted his gaze.

Though her face was inscrutable, the laughter in Rachel's voice was clearly audible, "Why should the Kid go to jail because you lost some of your crop, Mr. Jenkins?"

"He kidnapped my hand," explained Jenkins.

"Kidnapping implies that someone was taken away against their will," Teaspoon observed cocking his head and focusing one eye on the farmer. "Danny went with the Kid willingly."

Stomping his foot, Jenkins angrily insisted, "He had no right to take him. Danny was mine. Thompkins gave him to me."

"Danny isn't property that can be given or taken away," Teaspoon quietly contradicted. "Mr. Thompkins simply asked you to give him a home."

"I gave him a home," Jenkins replied in all sincerity.

Feeling the arm beneath his hand try to jerk away, Thompkins instinctively tightened his grip. His first impression that the Kid had lost his balance dissipated as his eyes glanced down at the angry face. The only thing saving Jenkins from a black eye - or worse - was the storekeeper's restraining hand.

"That wasn't a home," the Kid defiantly protested. "All Danny was to you was slave labor."

"Do you honestly think he'll find anything better?' the farmer smugly demanded.

In a voice that was quieter and more peaceful than any that his listeners had ever heard before, Thompkins acknowledged, "He has found better. With a couple that will look after him and love him."

"And," Teaspoon added, "where he can live a useful life doing something he loves."

Though obviously taken aback, Jenkins stubbornly insisted, "Even if I believed what yer sayin' it don't excuse what this boy done. I still want 'im arrested."

"I can't arrest someone cause you're mad at 'em," an exasperated Teaspoon pointed out. Annoyed by the delay, he took Rachel's arm to steer her into the doctor's office. "If you'll excuse us, we have more important matters to attend to."

Clearly lost for words, Jenkins shuffled his feet kicking mud onto the sidewalk in front of the doctor's office as he stormed away.

"Watch it," Thompkin's warned, "you may have to sweep that up."

Easing the Kid up onto the sidewalk, the storekeeper followed the muddy path into the small building. While he'd had more than just a few heartaches in his own life, he was glad that he'd been a witness to this fairy tale ending.


End file.
